


A Thief in the Night

by Kei (adakie)



Series: Through Darkest Night [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baby Blasters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Conditioning, Gen, Grimdark, Medical Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adakie/pseuds/Kei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((A side-story to Whispers in the Dark from the pov of 1-S during chapters 9 and 10. ))  <br/>He would never see 2-P again.  His sibling’s life could start anew, but his was over.  He was just waiting for his body to recognize that fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thief in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> If this is the first thing you're reading from me ... well maybe you might want to go read the first part of this series first. I can't imagine it would make much sense on its own. 
> 
> So when I mentioned thinking about doing a 1-S pov piece over on tumblr, I was kind of surprised to find that I wasn't the only one interested in something like that. And that's all the excuse I needed to write this thing! So that’s how I’m kicking off my next project, by writing some horrible horrible angst that takes place during the previous one. And ooooh boy, it’s rough. But, also a fairly good indicator of how dark this next project is going to be (which is to say, very). The last chapter of Whispers in the Dark will go up soon, and after that I start the sequel; To Last the Night.

The cell which subject WD.G – E2 – 001 – S found himself in was smaller than he remembered.  It was undoubtedly his though.  The hole he’d blasted through the thick metal wall had been repaired, but the stone floor still bore the long scratches he’d left with his claws as he filed them down, mutilating them into wickedly sharp shards.  This was clearly his cell, the room he’d grown up in and the only home he’d known until the day he and his sibling had dared to escape, but it didn’t feel like it.  By all accounts, the room should have seemed spacious to him now that he wasn’t sharing it with another creature his own size, but that wasn’t the case.  After seeing what lay beyond the lab, this tiny, self-contained place that had been his whole world would always be too small, too cramped, and far too lonely.  

The tall man had shown him a measure of mercy upon his unwilling return, offering food and grumbling under his breath about how 1-S would have to be cured before the experiment could continue.  He’d said 1-S should be grateful he wasn’t going to be punished or put down for his disobedience, but 1-S hadn’t wanted that.  Without 2-P, he had no one to protect and no reason to stay strong.  The younger boy was far away, hopefully safe with the monsters in that snowy little town, never to return to these dark, echoing hallways.  That was all 1-S had ever wanted for either of them.  He’d lost his own chance at freedom and knew better than to dream of it ever coming again, but it hardly mattered now.  He’s saved his little brother, the one good thing in his whole life.  He would never see 2-P again.  Every pulse of magic through his weary soul ached with the happiness and sorrow at constant war within him.  His sibling’s life could start anew, but his was over.  He was just waiting for his body to recognize that fact.

No matter how ready the little skeleton was to lay down and let it all end, it seemed that the tall man did not agree with him.  The doctor tried everything from gentle coaxing to shaking and screaming to get him to obey.  When his orders failed to produce anything more than momentary conditioned compliance, he resorted to force.  1-S struggled against the hands that grasped him as they pried open his jaws and forced a familiar, tasteless substance down his ravaged throat.  He thrashed when he was held down, pressed flat against the cold stone floor of his prison as needles pierced his bones, drawing out magic and marrow or forcing something new inside.  He turned on himself, clawing and biting with a renewed strength that he hadn’t asked for until someone came and tied his flailing limbs and snapping jaws together so tight that his bones creaked under the pressure.  He was tethered to the back wall of the stark, empty cell.  His claws were ground down to painful, oozing stumps.  There would be no escape for him, not even this way.  

The tall man came to him often, prodding and testing and muttering darkly when his efforts failed to cure the sickness so deeply rooted in his creation.  1-S was silently pleased with himself for causing the man such grief.  Sometimes he brought others with him, monsters the child remembered seeing before.  They would check his soul, his magic levels, his temperature, digging between his ribs and into his wounds before rattling off numbers that must have made sense to them but meant nothing to the small creature they toyed with.

“Sir,” one of the monsters said with thinly veiled concern as 1-S did his best to wriggle out of their grasp, “I know you said we’d wait until at least the infection cleared but … “

“It’s taking too long, I know.”  The tall man sighed deeply, his own frustration more than apparent.  “All we’re doing is wasting time.”

A hand grabbed his muzzle and turned his head harshly.  For just a moment his gaze was forced up and he saw the dark stare of his creator baring down on him.  1-S blinked and looked away, straining to free himself from the man’s grasp.  The hand let him go and his head fell back to the floor with a faint thump.  

“Move the subject to the operating room and prep it for DT treatment.  I’ll be there shortly.”

The words sent a jolt of fear right to his core.  No.  No!  They couldn’t, not again!  1-S struggled and thrashed against his bonds, mind gripped by a terror beyond rational thought.  He twisted his small frame until his sore joints threatened to break, desperate to escape the hands which reached for him, but no amount of struggle could free him from their grasp.  No matter how he wailed with the shattered remains of what had once been his voice, they would not listen.  

Something pierced the bone of his leg and cold liquid flooded into his marrow.  Almost instantly, his thoughts became clouded and what little strength he possessed drained away.  His limbs felt heavy and he couldn’t resist as they were freed from their bindings only to be stretched awkwardly and buckled into thick leather restraints.  He was pinned on his back, unable to do more than twitch his long, thin tail in muted protest.  Needles pressed in above his wrists and stayed there, filling him not with the cool sedative but with something that tingled almost pleasantly as it surged through his bones.  

Bright light shown done on him, its stark brilliance holding no hint of warmth or color.  He wanted to look away, but the boy couldn’t manage to turn his head.  A dark shadow passed over him, blocking out the harsh light as a tall, thin figure loomed above.  The tall man patted his bound muzzle with a gesture that was almost tender, almost kind, had it not been for what he carried with him.  1-S saw the gleam of metal in his hands.  A sturdy saw caught the light.  The child shut his eyes tight against the sight of it.  He knew what came next.  

The sedative did little to block out the pain as the sharp metal teeth carved through his ribs.  His small chest shuddered, bones buzzing with each stroke of the saw, red tinged marrow and blue magic dripping inside where it fizzled against his overheated core.  He trembled, rattling against the table, unable to cry out no matter how much he wished to.  One by one, his ribs gave way until the saw had cut a clean line alongside his sternum.  Flexible bones were grasped and pulled, arching back until they could be fixed in place, leaving his chest open and his fragile core exposed.  

“Can you hear me 001 - S?” the man asked, leaning low over the child’s restrained form.  His eye lights flickered unsteadily, focusing almost against his will on the man’s cracked face.  The doctor’s mouth curved into a pleased smile.  “Good.  I need you awake for this.”  

A hand reached into his chest, long, thin fingers burying themselves into the thick magic that resided there.  1-S tried to resist, to keep the core of his being from his creator’s grasp, but something twisted inside him and he had no choice.  His soul manifested, fluttering and beating wildly in the doctor’s grasp.  

“Very good,” the tall man said.  1-S could practically hear him grinning.  Fingers tightened around his soul and his whole body jerked, carved chest hitching with the need to free himself from this vice like hold.  His own magic churned and soured inside him.  Then the first needle pierced his soul, and he was lost in a burning haze of agony.

The remains of a tortured scream died in his paralyzed throat.  He gave in to the drug induced fog that sedatives always brought, his mind running from a reality he could not escape any other way.  He could no longer tell if time were racing far too fast around him or standing still, for it felt like both at once.  His vertebra were skewered one by one, pierced by thick needles expertly hammered into place.  They bit too easily into bone and burrowed deep until they hit soft, magic rich marrow.  Thin fingers pried one of his eye sockets open, cold metal quickly taking their place and preventing him from closing it no matter how hard he tried.  His eye light winked out of existence as the sight of a sharp metal tip bared down on him.  It didn’t stop until it punctured the semi-solid magic deep inside his skull.  The slender blade of a scalpel sliced into his soul, opening up holes which were quickly plugged with flexible tubes that pinched and pulled each time his life source struggled to beat.

1-S waited for death, but it never came to claim him.  The glowing magic and clear, tingling fluid being forced into his body kept him alive, rushing in even as his own power drained away.  The constant ebb and flow of energy circulating through him stopped his soul from cracking apart or his bones from crumbling into dust.  Fingers pressed against aching magic and oversensitive bone.  Something started beeping, fast and rhythmic, in time with the pulse of magic through his pounding soul.

“Doctor?” a voice asked.  Even though he knew they were right beside him, the sound seemed to come from a million miles away.  “Are we ready?”

“Almost.”  The tall man loomed over him, his presence unmistakable even in the child’s drugged state.  A mask was placed over his muzzle, forcing cool air into his chest where it soothed the sickening burn of pain.  “There.  Now, let’s begin.”  

A low mechanical whirring filled the space and the creature strained to see thick crimson liquid filling the previously empty tubes attached to him.  He let out a strangled hiss when it hit.  Each drop was like liquid fire, searing its way into his magic.  The sensation built as it spread, slowly consuming him body and soul.  His entire world was burning with an inescapable heat.  The safe haven in his foggy mind was corrupted, twisting into something dark and terrible from which he could not free himself.  His body shook violently against his will, sour, spoiled magic frothing up behind his teeth.  He thrashed against the bonds that held him tight even when they started to crush the fragile bones of his wrists and ankles.  

Voices from above him spoke in harsh, clipped tones.  The meaning of their frantic words was lost to the child, drowned out by the beeping sound which had sped into a single shrill tone and the roar of his own magic.  Cold seeped its way into his awareness, a familiar chill that cut through the inferno raging in him, and icy fog claimed his mind.

Delirium was a welcome respite from his torture.  He was aware of the agonizing fire that gripped him, but it couldn’t reach into the darkness his thoughts had fled to.  The voices came and went, drifting like ghosts around him and mingling with dreamlike hallucinations conjured up by his fractured mind.  Sometimes he even thought he heard his brother trilling softly to him, but the comforting sound would fade far too quickly as the shrill beep of the doctor’s machine drowned it out.  It wasn’t real.  Only the pain was real, and he could not face it.  

The child clung to the darkness in his own mind until it dissipated, slipping from his grasp and forcing him back to reality.  The drone of the machines was overtaken by harsh tones and angry words pierced by a deep rumbling sound that he understood on an instinctual level.  That sound meant anger.  Warning.  Danger.  Someone was close, and though he recognized the magic signature of the tall man amidst the crowd there were others he’d never sensed before.  He struggled, not even sure what he was trying to get away from, but his bones felt heavy as stone.  Each pulse of his magic sent poisoned heat racing far too fast through him.  

And then the tall man was standing over him once more, his face nothing but a hazy blur to the small creature but his magic standing out like a fearsome beacon.  The child strained to pull away, but nothing could spare him as the man reached into his core.  He couldn’t take any more of this.  His soul was barely holding together.  Even the foreign magic that glued his fractured pieces in place could only last so long.  In that moment, no matter how ready he had been to end it all on his prison cell floor, 1-S was afraid to die.  

But the hands that held him, while far from kind, did not crush or cut or strangle.  They held him tight as the tubes and wires that had pierced him were removed one by one.  Raw magic dripped from holes carved through the child’s trembling soul.  Red stained marrow welled up and spilled along the curves of his spine.  Long, slender fingers reached into his open eye socket, a magic signature that wasn’t his own reaching in past where they could touch to pull something free.  The sensation left him shaking, a wave of tremors gripping his small form and making his warped vision blur with movement even after the obstructions were removed.  Something was pooling in the back of his skull.  

His ribs were freed from the restraint that held them back and pressed down, closing the hole that had been carved into his chest.  Bones scraped against each other, raw ends grinding together as they clicked into place.  He hardly felt the wrappings as they were tied tight around him and bound the breaks together.  Without the cool air being forced down into his chest, he was left hot and trembling, slick with sweat and bleeding raw magic.  He drew in hisses of air through his clenched teeth but still felt like he was choking.  His eye sockets were open but he could not see.  There was sound and movement all around him, but no matter how he tried he could not focus enough to understand it.  Then the tight, crushing pressure holding his limbs was gone, and he lurched to life.  One single thought repeated continuously in his fevered mind; escape.  He flailed his limbs and threw his weight to the side, knowing he could not hope to stand but unwilling to let the opportunity pass by without so much as trying to crawl away from his tormentor.  

The hands that reached for him were strangely gentle, holding his thrashing limbs still but not crushing delicate bone like the scientists did.  Soft fur brushed against him.  The newcomers spoke in soothing tones, oddly familiar though the creature was too frightened and dazed to place them.  That gentleness was so bizarrely unexpected that he didn’t know what to do.  Should he keep fighting in an admittedly probably futile attempt to escape?  Should he give in and savor this kind touch for the few moments he had it?  Something heavy yet soft was draped over him, and though he struggled beneath it he could not free himself.  But, perhaps this time that wasn’t so bad.  It did not smother or burn.  There was only the gentle friction of thick fabric against his heated bones.  It was almost … nice.  Arms wrapped around him and he found himself cradled against a solid wall of warmth.  He felt more than heard the one holding him speak.  Their voice held something familiar in it, a sound he’d thought only his sibling and himself could make.  His wounded soul ached with the loss of that sound.

They were speaking to him, but he could not place the meaning.  He only knew that it was soft, and not in the cold, dangerous way of the doctor.  No, this softness was gentle and strangely kind.  He almost wished he could understand them.  He ought to, he knew that, but the words mixed together in his head until all meaning was lost in a haze of confusion.  One word stood out clearly though; brother.  Realization cut through his mental fog.  He stared, trying to make out some semblance of detail in these blurry figures of white and black.  White fur.  White snow.  That’s where he knew these monsters from.  They belonged to the snowy little town.  Had they discovered the truth and brought his sibling here?  No, it couldn’t be that.  They’d made the tall man stop.  Why would they do such a thing if they were obeying him?  So if they weren’t returning 2-P, what did they want?  He strained to catch some trace of his sibling’s scent on the monsters.  He couldn’t manage to smell much past the sickly sweet wrongness he carried inside himself, but his keen nose caught hints of smoke and bone.  A broad palm pressed gently against his skull, and for once the touch of a monster did not bring him pain.  

1-S stopped fighting.  He let himself go limp in the monster’s arms, imprisoned yet safe in a way he did not yet know how to process.  There was no point in fighting, there never was, but perhaps his chances of escape weren’t lost after all.  The child closed his eyes, the flow of his magic turning slow and sluggish as his racing soul gave in to exhaustion.  

And in his dreams he was with his brother, safe and warm in their little tree nest, watching the silent dance of gently falling snow.


End file.
